The apples fallen on the ground, sweet and untouched, crisp and fresh, laying within reach of the tree.
The apples rot into the world, ruin down through the soil, and restore roots.
The apples bring up the tree, where new ones perch, plump and juicy, just ripe for picking.
YOU ARE READING
In Principio
Poetryhello and welcome to a piece of my brain. enjoy your stay. Y E A R O N E.
